


can't save you now

by kill_the_dj



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Body Horror, Canon Temporary Character Death, Dehumanization, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, HYDRA Trash Party, Hair-pulling, Hurt Bucky Barnes, I'm Bad At Summaries, M/M, Physical Abuse, Prompt Fill, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, i also made a whole new ao3 account out of shame, just in reference to buckys arm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 13:05:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18605101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kill_the_dj/pseuds/kill_the_dj
Summary: HYDRA tells Bucky that Cap is dead. Bucky doesn't believe them, until he does.





	can't save you now

**Author's Note:**

> based off of this https://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/1634.html?thread=2934114#cmt2934114
> 
> this is my first fic in this fandom, and also my first fic dealing with this dark of subject matter and my first time writing any type of smut. i really just said fuck it and did it. un-beta'd, if there's any mistakes/tags i missed please feel free to drop a comment.

_ Captain America is dead! _

 

The words echo over and over in Bucky’s head.

 

_ Captain America is dead! _

 

_ Captain America is dead!  _

 

A sick feeling twists his gut at the utter joy in the operative’s voice, as if he just won a bet on the ponies rather than announcing the death of a national war hero and Bucky’s best friend. 

 

_ Captain America is dead! _

 

He’d nearly laughed when the agents stepped through the door and told him this. Did they think him stupid? Bucky had watched as the great Captain launched himself off of ten story buildings and into direct line of fire (regardless if he were carrying that  _ ridiculous  _ fucking shield or not) and, on one occasion, watched as he stood his ground while a fucking  _ tank  _ had been steadily making its way at him (though Bucky and a few of the howlies had managed to shove him out of the way for that one, and Bucky has ranted and shouted until he went blue in the face at Steve about self-preservation and suicide missions. He had been so angry that he hadn’t talked to Steve unless strictly necessary for a whole two days before Steve flashed him those big blue eyes that looked more like a retriever’s than those of a human and he had forgiven him in an instant.)

 

Captain America was indestructible, or so everyone thought. One of the agents crouched before where he was slumped low against the wall and struck him across the face with a rolled up newspaper as if he were a disobedient mutt. He stood up and chucked the paper at Bucky, telling him to read in accented English. Buck had grabbed the paper with a single shaking hand (the one he had left,  _ oh god _ ) and scanned the article with bleary eyes. 

 

His heart nearly stopped right there when the words  _ Captain America  _ and  _ plane crash  _ and  _ ocean  _ jumped out at him. His face must’ve done something, because the agent had burst into laughter and slapped a hand against his knee like he had just heard the world’s funniest joke right here in this small dank cell. Bucky felt a lump form in his throat, but he still managed to throw an icy glare at the man standing above him. 

 

“You’re lying,” he spat, denial laced in his tone. He would be ashamed at his own immaturity if it were any other situation, but he wouldn’t stand for this bullshit. Of course Steve wasn’t dead!

 

… Right?

 

The agent (who Bucky assumed was in charge at this point) merely chuckled again. He tilted his head and stared down at Bucky with a slimy smile that made Bucky’s skin crawl. “Are all you Americans this stupid?” He mocked, accent thick and somehow adding to the condescending lilt in his voice. He tsked and sent a sharp kick to Bucky’s side. 

 

Bucky grunted but otherwise stayed still.  _ I’ve had worse,  _ he told himself. “You’re lying,” he said again. “He’s still out there and he’s gonna kick all of your fucking asses.”

 

The man straightened and studied Bucky for a moment. He sighed in disappointment and motioned to one of the three agents behind him. “Seems like he needs more evidence. Bring the reel,” he ordered. 

 

One of the men disappeared and was back in a moment, a television screen on a cart in tow. He set up the machine, and grainy, black and white images flashed across the screen. Bucky watched as dread began to settle heavy in his stomach. 

 

The newsreel showed remains of the plane, showed people gathered with tears in their eyes, but Bucky couldn’t hear anything being said on the film. It was as though his ears were muted, and his vision spotted as the pictures replayed again and again across the screen

 

The agents were laughing, all staring at him and mocking. One man balled his hands into fists and mimed rubbing his eyes with an exaggerated pout on his mouth, and Bucky lifted his hand to his face. He pulled it back and stared at his warm, tear soaked fingers. 

 

“Aw, he’s crying,” the agent in charge taunted. 

 

Bucky had hoped it was a ploy, that they had went so far as to print out a fake newspaper copy, but this was different. Bucky had never seen film be altered, didn’t even know if it was possible, but the scenes still playing out in front of him were telling an obvious story that Bucky felt he had no choice but to believe. He tilted his head to the floor, slack jawed and shoulders quivering. 

 

An agent stepped forward, too close to Bucky, and he lashed out wildly. “Get the fuck away from me, you fucking liar!” He shouted.

 

The prick in charge glowered as he was nearly struck by the soldier’s flailing arm. Then, he smiled again. Bucky wished to  _ God  _ that he could just wipe that smile off of his ugly mug.

 

“You know what this means,  _ Soldat _ ?” When Bucky showed no intentions of answering, he continued. “It means that you’re ours now.”

 

Bucky felt an icy chill slink down his spine. The agent motioned again to his goons, and two stepped on either side of Bucky. The third slipped back to the door, kicking it closed. The heavy metal clanged shut with finality, and Bucky felt even more trapped than before. 

The operatives flanking him each gripped him tightly, one grabbing hold of his right arm and the other scrabbling at his stump where his left arm should have been. The leader kept talking. “You’re ours now,” he repeated, circling Bucky like a shark. “You are now our property. We  _ own  _ you.” He slipped a hand out and carded his fingers through Bucky’s damp, grimy hair. He suddenly tightened his hold, yanking Bucky’s head back and forcing him to look up into his eyes. Bucky let out a whimper, then snapped his mouth shut. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing his pain. 

 

The agent assessed him before addressing his colleagues. “Who wants to play with the new toy?” He asked the group. He was met with laughter and words of agreement. Bucky let his eyes slide shut as he felt a wave of nausea come over him.  _ Toy. _ He didn't like the sound of that. 

 

Suddenly, his head was jerked forward by the hand still gripping his hair, and his face was shoved into the clothed crotch of the leader. Bucky could feel the hardness in the man’s pants and he trembled. A sharp slap rang across the room as he was backhanded. His body went with the movement and he sat there frozen. Then he heard a zipper being undone. 

 

His head snapped forward just in time to see the agent’s erection spring free from where he had pulled down his slacks with his unoccupied hand. He tilted Bucky’s head up and looked directly into his eyes. “Suck.” He ordered.

 

Bucky’s breathing picked up and he shook his head before he could stop himself.  _ No,  _ he thought,  _ this only happens to girls. Not men. Not me.  _ But then the agent was tightening his grip, so much that Bucky yelped against the sudden sharp pain blooming across his scalp. The agent on his left squeezed the sensitive tissue of his stump and Bucky  _ howled.  _

 

The agent holding his hair forced Bucky’s head at an awkward angle. “I said  _ suck _ ,” he repeated. He nudged his now fully hard cock against Bucky’s mouth who pursed his lips tightly. The agent rolled his eyes and pinched Bucky’s nose. 

 

It only took a few moments, with his racing heart, before the need to breathe forced his mouth open. He barely managed to suck in a breath before the man’s cock was being shoved down his throat. The agent held his head down on the throbbing member. He pulled at Bucky’s hair until they met eyes again. “If you bite me, I will blow your brains out.” And for good measure, he pulled a gun from his belt and cocked it menacingly. 

 

He gave a few shallow thrusts. “Suck.” He ordered again. 

 

Bucky felt burning behind his eyes. He could struggle, he could bite, he could do something,  _ anything  _ besides just sitting there and taking it, but then he felt the cool barrel of the gun settle between his brows, and he knew he had to comply if he wanted to live to see the next day. Though, a part of his mind whispered to him that maybe he didn't want to see it anyway. 

 

He shut his eyes and relaxed his jaw, and that seemed to be good enough for the agent as he began to fuck into his mouth. The other agents started to jeer and laugh, egging their leader on. The goon on his right dropped a hand to his bare chest, pinching and flicking a nipple. He whimpered around the cock in his mouth and hated himself for it. 

 

The agent in front of him sped up. He thrusted so deep that Bucky gagged and choked, feeling a second away from vomiting. Tears sprang to his eyes and rolled down his cheeks and into his mouth, the saltiness mixing with the bitter taste of the man’s dick. The man started panting, and when Bucky thought he was almost done, he abruptly stopped, withdrawing from Bucky’s mouth. Bucky was relieved for only a second before he heard the agent tell the others, “Get him on all fours.”

 

Terror gripped Bucky’s heart. He thought the agent had only wanted to use his mouth and then they’d be done with him, but as Bucky is quickly beginning to learn, that’s not how this particular group of grimey individuals works. The men flanking him manhandled him until he was on his hands and knees, back turned to the exposed agent. The man behind him pinned his arm behind his back and began shoving Bucky’s tattered trousers over his ass and down his thighs. Bucky felt a red hot burning creep  up his neck and spread across his face as cool air hit his nude rear.

 

He heard the agent spit and went sounds followed as he presumably slicked himself up, before a blunt object lined up against Bucky’s entrance. Bucky had a single moment to steel himself, and one of the agents standing at his head leaned down and said, “It’ll hurt more if you don’t relax,” before a cock was being shoved into him until he was balls deep.

 

The pain was excruciating. Bucky could remember being shot and it had hurt less than this. He was too tight, body tense, and the spit did nothing to lessen the friction. Bucky had just been able to clear his eyes from the blinding pain before the man behind him began to move. He pulled all the way out before slamming in again, and the tears poured faster from Bucky’s eyes. As the man started to pick up speed, Bucky started to really cry. He whimpered against every thrust of the man’s hips. 

 

The agent grunted. “Will someone shut him up,” He snapped at the room. Bucky heard another belt and zipper being undone, and then there was a cock in his face yet again. Bucky had been panting through the pain, and the agent shoved his member past Bucky’s parted lips. He buried himself deep in Bucky’s throat as the first agent did the same in his ass. 

 

Bucky choked against the intrusion in his mouth and yelped as the agent behind him gave a sharp smack to his asscheek. He laughed, before looking around at the other two agents and gestured for them to join in. The two of them both freed themselves. One leaned down and started toying with Bucky’s nipples again, while the other watched and stroked himself. The leader snapped his hips forward, Bucky’s body jolting with the force. 

 

Suddenly, the friction gave way, but the man continued to fuck him. Bucky realized with a rolling in his gut that the sudden ease wasn't due to the agent’s release, but in fact his own blood. His heart clenched as he was continuously used at both ends. 

 

Bucky was fully crying now, gasping sobs muffled around the cock down his throat. One agent pinched hard at a niple, twisting his wrist and holding it until Bucky let out what was meant to be a scream but was more of a low whine from deep within his chest. The vibrations from his mouth sent the agent over the edge, and he spilled down Bucky’s throat, pinching his nose shut until Bucky swallowed every drop. He roughly pulled himself away from Bucky, stepping to the side without a second glance. 

 

The first agent, still buried in his aching hole, draped himself across Bucky’s back, pulling his hair again so his head was forced up. It was at that moment that Bucky saw the newsreel still playing on the screen, and Steve’s smiling face stared back at him.

 

For a moment, Bucky felt completely frozen, gone numb to the agent’s quickening breaths on the back of his neck, the newfound jerkiness in each thrust, the whispered words in his ear, “ _ No one is going to save you now, _ ” as he released inside of Bucky, hips slamming until they slowed and he roughly pulled out. Bucky winced as he felt mix of blood and spunk sliding down his legs, but he didn’t move as the hold on him released and he slumped fully onto the ground, eyes locked on the washed up remains of a plane on a screen. 

 

He didn’t move when the next two agents lined themselves up at either end of him, he didn't move when they drove into him that he was officially alone, that he now belonged to HYDRA, didn’t move when they both finished in him again. His eyes were still locked onto that goddamn screen, blank and unblinking. He didn’t even flinch when they started to kick and punch at him, screaming every insult they could think to throw at him.

 

The first agent, the one who started this all, drew a small handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing at his forehead and wiping off the remaining stains of blood and his pleasure from his clothes. He offered it to the others, each of them taking turns wiping themselves down, before it came back around to him. The agent wrinkled his nose in disgust, before balling up the cloth and throwing it into Bucky’s face. He snorted, and said “Clean yourself up,  _ filthy bitch. _ ” He turned and left the room, the others following on his heel. 

 

Bucky stayed sprawled on the floor long after the door slammed shut, blonde hair and blue eyes and nice, white teeth staring down at him. 

  
Captain America is  _ dead.  _


End file.
